It’s The Answers For Me

By Khaya Dlanga

With three bestselling books published, Khaya Dlanga is one of South Africa’s favourite authors. His ability to write candidly and authentically about himself and his world has resonated with readers from all walks of life.

In March 2020 Khaya found himself bereaved, alone and facing an indefinite lockdown as a result of COVID-19. Like most of us, he turned to social media to maintain some human connection and his followers came through and kept him going.

It’s The Answers For Me is the result of Khaya’s ongoing Q&A interactions with his followers on Instagram. It’s evidence of the genuine communities that are formed on social media: intensely human, at times strange and shocking, sometimes touching and often really funny. And it’s a record of a nation going through what have been the most bizarre (and longest) years in recent history.

Khaya’s enviable gift for storytelling makes people want to hear his stories and also to trust him with theirs. From the secrets our parents think they keep from us, to the real reasons we stay in relationships, and venturing into many other everyday issues and situations, It’s The Answers For Me captures our collective mgowo.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pan Macmillan South Africa
• Release date: Jul 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781770107274

Khaya Dlanga

KHAYA DLANGA is the author of three previous books. His memoir, To Quote Myself, was shortlisted for the 2016 Sunday Times Alan Paton Prize and These Things Really Do Happen To Me was a runaway bestseller. By day Dlanga is a marketing executive and has held senior positions in some of the country's and world's most recognisable brands.

Book preview

It's_The_Answers_For_Me_300dpi_with_shout_quote.jpg

It’s The Answers For Me

It’s The Answers For Me

Khaya Dlanga

MACMILLAN

First published in 2021

by Pan Macmillan South Africa

Private Bag X19

Northlands

Johannesburg

2116

www.panmacmillan.co.za

ISBN 978-1-77010-721-2

e-ISBN 978-1-77010-727-4

© ٢٠21 Khaya Dlanga

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Editing by Kelly Norwood-Young

Proofreading by Katlego Tapala

Design and typesetting by Nyx Design

Cover concept by Khaya Dlanga and Saffron Shaw

Printed and bound by XX

Contents

Author’s note viii

Introduction 1

Part 1: Your answers 5

Part 2: My answers 289

Acknowledgements 341

Also by Khaya Dlanga 343

Author’s note

My social media followers come from a variety of backgrounds and often reply to me in their own South African languages. For this book, I have provided English translations where I felt it was necessary, but it must be noted that many of the translations are not 100% accurate. I have purposefully added spice to these, because in many cases, a direct translation loses all impact and does no justice to the meaning or intent.

I have also included my own original replies to some of the responses I received on social media. And where I’ve had more to say, for the purposes of this book, I have provided additional commentary or context.

Introduction

My previous books (particularly To Quote Myself and These Things Really Do Happen To Me) are largely about me, though really, they convey the life and experiences of many South Africans.

It’s The Answers For Me has a different approach to storytelling. While my other books focus on my story, this one has hundreds of stories from other people. At first, I couldn’t help asking myself if I could even call this a book. After all, I didn’t dig deep and write these stories. What actually happened was that people trusted me with some poignant, personal, sensitive, shocking and sometimes really funny information about their lives and experiences.

The responses to my questions on social media have always been interesting. I often get a really funny response and right after that, an extremely tragic one. In many ways, these answers reflect the human condition. We live, simultaneously, in a comedy and a tragedy. Whatever is happening in our lives, we carry on because that is what life demands of us – to continue, despite the hellish conditions we sometimes find ourselves in. And if we can find some humour along the way, that helps too.

This book is not necessarily a book for only people who know what’s happening on social media. It’s a book for anyone who is curious about what we go through as humans.

But if you’re not familiar with how Instagram Stories work, here’s what you need to know about how I gathered these insights into people’s lives: There is a feature that allows a user to ask questions to their followers (I always find it weird to say ‘followers’, like that person is some kind of Jesus – who technically, in his time, only had 12 … but I digress). Each follower can choose to respond to the question or statement posed. The person doing the asking knows who the responders are, but once the response is shared, this is completely anonymous. The feature gives people an opportunity for honesty and a cloak of invisibility.

It is not uncommon for people to say to me, ‘I have never told this to anyone before,’ or, ‘I don’t know why I am telling you this.’ And then they will proceed to tell me something I did not expect. I don’t know why that happens, but I do know that I enjoy people, and because I do, I like to ask them about themselves.

I also like to tell stories about my experiences. People who know me say I am always telling stories while others say I just talk a lot.

I’ve been asking questions on social media for years but Level 5 Lockdown, at the start of the Covid-19 pandemic in South Africa, was the ideal time to use this feature on Instagram. We were stuck at home. We were not allowed to go outside, except to go buy food or medication. We couldn’t exercise or even walk our dogs on the streets. (I have a confession to make: I was one of those people who shouted at a lady who was walking her dog. Every time I think about it, I want to crawl into a little hole and hide there for a while until the shame has washed over me.)

We had a lot of time on our hands. People were both frustrated and fearful because we didn’t really understand the virus. The fact that the sale of alcohol was banned in South Africa added to an even more tense situation. But no one was angrier than the smokers because the sale of cigarettes was also banned.

During this time, I was living alone in my humble apartment. A week before, this was not the case. When South African President Cyril Ramaphosa had announced that the country was going under hard lockdown, it had been one day since we’d buried my brother. We had been living together.

And so, it was myself and my brother’s shadow in my apartment. There were routines he had, which I had come to expect, and sometimes I’d forget that he was now gone.

I was eager to keep my mind distracted. I had done enough Netflix, Apple TV Plus and Amazon Prime. I also craved human interaction, but visitors were not allowed. At one point, I realised that I hadn’t touched another human being for two months.

So, I started asking even more questions on Instagram. I mean, I had been asking questions before, but they were mostly about me: ‘Ask me a question.’ People would ask, and I would answer. Sometimes I gave funny responses and other times they were considered. I was surprised by how honest and candid people were. Some of the responses were heart-breaking; others were hilarious. It was all very human.

Since I was posting questions so regularly, and everyone was online because we were all under lockdown, people soon became addicted – to such an extent that if I asked a question and took too long to post responses, I got DMs asking me when I was posting them. Worse, if I didn’t ask a question for a week, DMs would flood in, asking me when the next question would be asked.

I imagine people saw themselves in many of the responses. Perhaps when they saw what others were going through or have been through, they realised that they were not the only ones – then maybe it’s not that bad. I don’t know. Maybe in a sense silent community.

The anonymity helped too. And to me, it felt like a release. In a strange way, I felt like a priest in a confessional booth, with people unburdening themselves, saying things they may never have said to anyone before, while also aware that their answers could potentially be seen by thousands of people once I posted them. Maybe the burden felt lighter because thousands of strangers were now also carrying their story, even if it was just for that moment it took to read it.

It was not long before I got DMs asking me when I would turn these questions and their responses into a book. I resisted for a long time because I didn’t see how these could be turned into a book. Then my publisher asked me and eventually, I figured, why not?

Part 1

Your answers

What is a slay queen?

I have been hearing so many definitions

16 August 2018

Back in 2018, there was a lot of talk about slay queens. From what I could decipher from the rough streets of the Internet, a slay queen is a woman who does not have a job but lives a life of luxury. The term is a put-down, the assumption being that a woman with that kind of lifestyle is being kept and supported by an anonymous rich man.

I remember being in the middle of a conversation with people I had recently met when they happened to refer to someone I knew as a slay queen. At that point, I didn’t tell them I actually knew her well because I wanted to see where the conversation was going. I was hoping to understand what they meant.

I eventually asked and the response was predictable: ‘It’s someone who lives a life of luxury, travels to Dubai, has expensive bags but doesn’t really work.’

‘Do you actually know her?’ I asked.

‘People talk, and I know her from social media,’ the guy replied.

‘So you believe these people and then you all conclude that she is a slay queen according to that definition?’ I have a bad habit of getting into debates.

Someone else chimed in: ‘It’s very clear that she is one. It’s just undeniable, bra.’

‘What if I told you that I know her very well?’ I said.

‘So you’re paying for her lifestyle?’

They all laughed and gave each other high fives. I laughed too.

‘Let’s say that you are right – that a man paid for her trip to Dubai. I know this for a fact,’ I said.

‘See, we told you!’ Then they proceeded to go on her Instagram page again to prove how right they were.

‘Now what if I told you that the man who paid for the trip was her dad?’

‘She would say that because she is your friend; she doesn’t want you to think differently about her.’

‘Yeah, but I still wouldn’t think weirdly about her even if it was some other man and not her dad. I know for a fact that her dad did not just pay for it – he was on the actual trip. They went there as a family and she just posted pictures of herself without her family. She comes from a very well-off family.’

I sensed a sudden shift.

Then I asked again, ‘What is a slay queen then? To tell you the truth, I am ready to have a rich, beautiful woman take care of my life too, you know.’

I then asked this question on Instagram.

‘A black woman who lives life according to her own rules and so excels at it. (Slays.)’

‘Girls that use people and love things and not the other way round.’

‘I believe that’s what they call a gay Santa.’

‘That lady with a PhD in thirst traps.’

‘A female version of a hustler.’

‘A queen that walks around, ready to slay a dragon with a sword.’

‘First and foremost – Mother of Dragons. First of her name, the unburnt …’

‘Aretha Franklin.’

‘Others refer to them as gold diggers while others refer to them as people who are making it.’

‘Someone who loves things they can’t afford. Most Slay Queens have Sugar Daddies.’

‘A derogatory term used to describe any lady that wears nice weaves and looks good, it is mostly used when said lady is being invalidated.’

‘I like to believe that it’s a term used to describe a lady who in the commenter’s eyes has killed.’

‘Women who feel they should be paid to be in relationships.’

‘It’s a queen who slays.’

‘If you slay anywhere, academically, financially etc. you are a slay queen.’

‘A female version of you. Lol.’

Why are Xhosa men notorious for being heartbreakers? Is it even true?

13 December 2018

Before I moved to Gauteng in 2006, I had lived in the Cape my whole life. I was born in the expansive province of the Eastern Cape, with its deserts and thick forests, rolling green hills and mountains. Later, I moved to Cape Town in the Western Cape, most famous for Table Mountain and for having kept Nelson Mandela as a prisoner for 27 years. Both the Eastern Cape and the Western Cape have large Xhosa-speaking populations.

When we were kids, we called all black people Xhosa. I recall watching a boxing match on TV as a child with other kids from the neighbourhood. There were two American boxers fighting: one white; the other, a black man. This is how we declared our support: ‘Ndi supporter lomXhosa waseAmerica.’ (I am throwing my support behind the Xhosa guy from America.) To us, all black people were Xhosa, regardless of whether they spoke Xhosa or not. In fact, as kids, we thought Michael Jackson was Xhosa. Blackness was synonymous with Xhosaness because that was all we knew.

Not to forget how the Eastern Cape first came into contact with our fellow Africans on a larger scale. Back then, parts of the province were part of the TBVC States (also called homelands), set up by the apartheid government to allow for black ‘self-governance’. All these states – Transkei, Bophuthatswana, Venda and Ciskei – were heavily dependent on the apartheid government and were run by a puppet leadership.

Back then, the Transkei and Ciskei did not have enough trained teachers and doctors and so these governments made a deal with the Ghanaian government to send these trained professionals to work in the homelands. They were referred to as amaGhana. And so, when we met other Africans from other countries – say, someone from Zimbabwe – it was not uncommon to hear old Xhosa folks calling them ‘LamaGhana aseZimbabwe’ (Ghanaians from Zimbabwe), since the only Africans they had been exposed to, from outside South Africa, were from Ghana.

After school, I moved to Cape Town, where most black people speak Xhosa too. And so, when I finally moved to Johannesburg, the big city of gold and lights, after a long time living in the Cape, I had no idea about the views other people might have about Xhosa folk. In fact, it did not even occur to me that there were any.

The only views I knew of were those perpetuated by the news during the political violence leading up to the 1994 elections. The blanket and unnuanced view of the day, as portrayed by the media, was that amaZulus were IFP and amaXhosa were ANC.

It was a great shock when I found out that people had perceptions, justified or not, about those from the Cape.

I recall my first weekend in Johannesburg. I went to a popular drinking spot called Six in Melville. They had a ‘happy hour’ when you could get two cocktails for the price of one. This was a very good reason to go.

It was here that I walked past a table with three young women and one of them stopped me to say, ‘You look familiar.’

I assured her that that would be impossible because I’d just moved to Johannesburg. She asked me for my name.

Hearing it, she said, ‘Are you Xhosa?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Xhosa guys are the worst. They are heartbreakers.’

At first, I thought she was joking because I had never heard that before. I also could not believe that someone would make a statement like that and mean it. (This was before social media, kids.)

She was very serious. Now she had my attention.

‘Why would you say that?’

‘Because that’s just what they are. And they lie.’

This was something I was hearing for the first time – but I would hear it being mentioned often in the years to come.

As we spoke, I began to realise that living in the Cape all my life had clearly shielded me from some stereotypes that I had no idea existed.

‘Have you even dated a Xhosa person?’ I asked.

‘Yes, my last boyfriend was Xhosa. In fact, 80% of my exes have been Xhosa. They are so charming and funny and then out of nowhere, they break your heart.’

‘Maybe you go for the same kind of man who will do the same kind of thing to you and maybe they just happen to be Xhosa …’

As the years went by, I would not only hear women say: ‘Oh no, you’re Xhosa,’ when they met me, but social media would begin to be filled with memes about these Xhosa heartbreakers.

I decided to conduct a very unscientific Q&A and these were the answers.

‘I’m Tswana dating a Xhosa guy for the first time and it’s the best relationship I’ve been in.’

‘They are amazing charmers that can sweet talk.’

‘It’s not true, I’m married to an amazing man and he happens to be Xhosa.’

‘Banamanga with no remorse. We keep seeing flames because of them.’ (They are big liars.)

‘Xhosa women are also known for that. They are influenced by Xhosa women, which are very dangerous.’

‘A Xhosa man will cheat. You catch him and he blames you for catching him and says you must apologise.’

‘I believe that Xhosa men are better than Swati men. Yho, those are destroyers.’

‘Xhosa men are the sweetest. I have dated two that are still my friends to date.’

‘I saw one in a restaurant breaking a gorgeous girl’s heart just last night. I just wanted to go over there and say, Run!’

‘Because you all dribbling the hell out of us while smiling.’

‘Dribbling’ means they will play you. This is in reference to soccer, where one player dribbles and pretends to be sending the ball one way but goes another way in order to misdirect the opposition.

‘He broke my heart to the point of me cutting my hair with scissors. I’m on an unexpected Afro journey right now. Trauma.’

‘Well, they must leave them to us Xhosa women. We can handle them, they don’t worry us.’

‘Honestly, I’m a sucker for Xhosa men.’

‘I’ve been dating a Xhosa man for the past three years. Nothing could be further from the truth.’

‘Truer than true. Very gqwirghy obhutiza.’ (Those brothers are very witchcrafty.)

‘They are callous and savage.’

‘Because majority of them lie. They lie all the time. Still love them though.’

‘Because all you guys do is lie and protest Inxeba.’

‘Baxabise ubumnandi neetshomi too much.’ (They value having a good time and their friends too much.)

‘Liars with a capital L.’

‘If Xhosa men overthrew the apartheid regime, they can easily overthrow your heart.’

KD: Qala noyiva.

‘They are good with reverse psychology.’

‘From my experience, that hasn’t been further from the truth.’

‘Khaya, you know very well it’s true. Dated a Xhosa man once, I am gatvol even for my next life. Rha!’

‘The best I’ve ever dated. True gentlemen, but yeerrrrr, you’all love women!’

‘I’m Sotho, dating a Xhosa guy for three years now. The best years of my life so far. No regrets. I’m the happiest girl.’

‘They are really good with words and debates. I mean, you are an exceptional author.’

‘Swati and Tswana men are nonsense, if Xhosas aren’t heartbreakers, hook me up with one.’

‘Yaayyy! You will see flames!’

‘Have people met Swati niggas? You will be dribbled until in Swaziland.’

‘Absolutely yes. I’ve always thought my dream husband would be Xhosa but hayi, I’m too weak.’

‘I’ve been with my Xhosa king for more than a year now, best boyfriend in the history of boyfriends.’

‘It’s because they finesse the hell out of you unprovoked and then do fuck shit. Unwarranted. Satanism.’

‘My Xhosa husband is the kindest, generous and most romantic man I know.’

‘Yhu bhuti Khaya. They date you and then ghost you like nothing happened.’

‘Bangamaxoki. PhD in Xokiology.’ (They are in the upper echelons of lying society. PhDs in Liarlogy.)

How do you feel when a guy kisses you on the cheek or lips to greet you?

25 January 2019

I have always had an aversion towards kissing people I don’t know.

I remember having a debate with some guy friends about kissing women on the cheek or lips when greeting them. I was of the view that a handshake or a hug is sufficient. I will only kiss on the cheek if she initiates the action, and even then, I will air-kiss, whether I know her or not.

Some felt that there was nothing wrong with kissing someone you know on the cheek to greet them. Some felt that even if you know each other, you must be certain that the woman is comfortable with cheek-kissing, and not just do it because you assume she is.

I expressed that I believe it should not be done, even if you know her. My view is that it could make women uncomfortable and they might not express their discomfort.

I conducted a poll on Instagram: ‘Ladies, are you OK with guys kissing you on the cheek or lips when greeting?’ Of the responses, 27% said they were comfortable while 73% said ‘no kissing’.

It was a poorly phrased question because it covered both the cheeks and lips. I began a new poll with a rephrased question: ‘OK, rephrase. How about a guy kissing you on the cheek to greet?’ This time, the results were vastly different: 44% said they were comfortable with a kiss on the cheek while 56% said they were not.

The outcome was closer but still clear that most women don’t want to be kissed on the cheek by men when they greet them. The poll results showed that if a guy is greeting two women and kisses them on the cheek to greet, one of them may be comfortable and the other likely will not.

Of course, this is by no means scientific. It applies to people who follow me specifically and might not mean the rest of society feels the same way. Having said that, the sample size, with just under 2000 respondents, was large enough.

When I released the poll results, I said to my friends: ‘My view is to err on the side of caution. Or to be safe, just an air-kiss rather than planting one’s